


Five Ways Fujiwarano Sai Might Have Existed (And One He Did)

by lordlings



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Fic, Gen, Hikago, gen - Freeform, sai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordlings/pseuds/lordlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at other ways Sai could have existed: haunting others, being haunted, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Ways Fujiwarano Sai Might Have Existed (And One He Did)

**Author's Note:**

>  This fic is quite old, but I reposted it here for ease of reference. The lovely jedusaur has made a podfic version of it, which you can find here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/855404

**[1]**

 

 

A hand cuts the air decisively. The click as the black stone it holds is placed on the board echoes in the otherwise silent room. Fujiwarano Sai considers it for a moment; the move is a risky one, a two-point extension that tries desperately to hold on to black’s minimal chance of making two eyes in the center. It would work, if white was weaker, but in this match there is too much at stake to be anything less than merciless.

There are dozens of men sitting seiza along the walls, and all of their eyes move together as Sai plays hane. Black is now dead in the center and both players know it, so they must find somewhere else to play. Sai is looking for a weak point in the upper left corner when he sees it, and his eyes widen, momentarily forgetting about the match.

“You! You just –”

“You!” The Emperor’s other tutor cuts him off, getting up and pointing at Sai accusingly. “You just placed a mixed stone from your goke into your agehama! Didn’t you?”

Sai looks at him horrified. “That’s what you just did!” He can’t believe he is being accused of cheating at Go – the mere thought repels him, makes him feel sick to his gut.

“What a pathetic excuse!”

“Quiet down.” The Emperor’s voice effectively cuts through the argument and reinstates silence – no one in the room dares even to breathe. “It is shameful that you should lie and try to trick not only your Emperor, to whom you have sworn loyalty, but also twenty other witnesses to this crime. I thought better of you, Sugiwara-san.” The other tutor tries to protest, but a look from the Emperor makes his words die in his throat. “Please continue the game.”

There is no victory in sight for black now, however; white’s walls are too solid, his attacks are too precise, and black has lost too much territory to them. He resigns at the beginning of Yose.

Years have passed since that game, but Sai still remembers every detail about it: the expression on his opponent’s face, the click of go stones on kaya, the Emperor’s impassive gaze behind the semi-translucent curtain. He thinks about that game more often than any others, because it touches him deeply that someone so gifted at Go could hold so little respect for it. He does not know what happened to Sugiwara-san after being run out of the capital, but it is not his business; his life is within the confines of the palace, trapped in the intersections of the board, and that is what is important.

There is, however, an unsettling feeling he can’t quite shake off, like a really annoying bug flying over his head. At times it stops and he thinks it’s finally gone, but he can’t find it in him to feel relieved, because he knows it will be back. There is no way to determine when that will be, but it _will_ be. Sai might be tutoring the Emperor or gazing at the sea, and then, out of the blue, that buzzing in his ears is back. He thinks it has to mean something, probably, but this meaning evades him, no matter how hard he thinks. It feels like he should know the answer, which is what makes it all the more irritating; maybe he once knew, and he forgot. It feels important, though, like some sort of unfinished business – but the Emperor’s Go is improving steadily, Sai has earned his place as the only tutor in the Palace and he can think of nothing else he should be concerned about.

Sometimes he retires with that weird feeling in his gut and has equally weird dreams, of ghosts and strange palaces the tips of whose towers scratch the heavens. It’s always raining in those dreams, and there’s a bizarrely-dressed boy with multi-colour hair next to him. He tells Sai to get under some odd object he refers to as ‘umbrella’, but even though doing that keeps his upper body dry, Sai’s feet still get wet.

His eyes are always drawn to the moon high up in the sky, the only thing he recognises in this absurd reality. The boy is talking about humans – _humans!_ – who have walked on its surface, which of course is impossible. Sai thinks the boy might be crazy, but he never tells him; he’s not sure he has any right to talk at this point.

He wakes up with the boy’s laughter echoing in his ears, and, for that single ephemeral moment, it’s almost as if he understands what it all means, but his mind is sluggish and he can’t hold onto the knowledge long enough to assimilate it.

Bees are buzzing outside; he used to find their song calming a long time ago. Sai looks at the kaya goban beneath the window and tries to think about something else, but the boy’s face refuses to vanish from his mind’s eye.

It’s hot today.

 

 

**[2]**

 

Shindou grins wickedly at Komiya. The black stone makes a loud, dull noise as it’s practically slammed onto the wooden surface. Waya would like to remind Shindou that it is Waya’s board he’s using, and it would be kind of him not to make a dent in it every time he plays a stone.

“How about _that_?” Shindou cackles delightedly.

But Waya’s stomach is too full and the couch is warm beneath him. He’s so comfortable he doesn’t think his body would move if he told it to.

Not that he _wants_ to move.

“I resign, I resign!” Komiya announces, happily throwing two stones onto the board and flailing his arms in the air. “Come back for a rematch after you’ve had a few more drinks!”

Shindou rubs his hands together. “Well, well, who wants to go next? Hey, Saeki-san! I’ll give you two stones!” he laughs, poking his tongue out at Saeki-san jokingly.

The sound of Saeki’s shouting (“I’ll show you, you little –”) and everyone else’s laughter makes for good background music. Waya snuggles deeper into the couch. He could just close his eyes…

“Waya,” Isumi-san whispers, poking him in the side lightly.

Waya frowns and opens one eye to look at him. He looks concerned. “What’s the matter, Isumi-san?”

Isumi-san says nothing, though; instead, he looks toward the window of Waya’s flat. Waya follows his gaze, both eyes open now. That Touya is standing there, looking out at the street, the glass in his hand being the only indication that he’s at a party. Waya sighs.

“I’ll go talk to him.” He doesn’t want to move, especially not for Touya, but as the host it feels wrong to leave him there all alone. Not like Isumi-san would let him, anyway; Waya is sure that he’d keep giving him worried glances until he does something, so he figures he might as well go now and get it over with.

Saeki-san is tickling Shindou’s sides when Waya gets up, managing to knock over a goke in the process, so Waya has to be careful not to step on any stones. He’ll make them clean up the mess afterwards. “Hey,” he says awkwardly, approaching Touya.

Touya blinks and turns to look at Waya, seemingly startled out of his thoughts. “Hello, Waya-san,” he greets, way more politely than the situation requires.

That stiffness about Touya is indication enough that he’s perfectly fine, in Waya’s opinion, but he can feel Isumi-san’s eyes digging accusatorially into the back of his head, as if he can read his mind, so Waya tries again. “Are you, um, enjoying yourself?” He hopes that doesn’t sound as sarcastic as it does in his head.

If it does, Touya doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s a very nice party,” he replies, smiling like he actually wants to, not just because he’s trying to be well-mannered. “But I’d tell Shindou to stop flailing if I were you – he’s going to knock over that vase in the corner.”

Touya’s right – Shindou should work on his accuracy, because none of the half-hearted kicks he’s been throwing to push Saeki-san away are landing on their mark. Waya shrugs. “Let him. I’ve been itching to get rid of that vase since my mother gave it to me last Christmas.” Touya looks at him in slight shock when he says that. Waya grins wickedly. “Besides, if he _does_ break it, I can pretend to be mad and make him and Saeki-san clean up the mess. It’s the perfect excuse, really.”

Touya laughs at that, but he conceals it by turning to look out of the window again. He probably feels guilty about it. Waya shakes his head and looks out of the window as well.

“It’s coming down hard,” he comments, watching the rainstorm with mild interest. In the street, people run to get under cover, but all Waya can see of them is the umbrellas they’re holding. A pink one gets blown away – he can see a young girl in a sailor uniform running after it helplessly.

Touya hums in agreement. His eyes are fixed on the night sky, now. After a while, he asks, “Waya-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think man has ever walked on the moon?”

Waya is caught completely off-guard by the question. “Huh? Why do you ask?”

Touya doesn’t even look at him when he replies. It doesn’t even _feel_ like he’s replying; it’s almost as if Touya’s thinking to himself out loud, and Waya just happens to be next to him. “When I saw those images, of Neil Armstrong stepping on the moon, I thought they were a fake. How could man walk on the moon? It’s impossible.” He frowns slightly and, when he speaks again, he sounds almost dreamy. “And lately I’ve been thinking, ‘if there’s anyone on the moon, then it can only be Sai.’”

A loud crash of shattering china fills the room. Saeki-san starts shouting at Shindou. “Sai?” Waya repeats, intrigued by Touya’s reasoning. Talking to Touya almost feels natural, the way a conversation with Isumi-san or Saeki-san might, and for a moment Waya wonders if maybe being around Shindou so much has turned Touya into a semi-social being. But Waya’s a few drinks beyond normal perception, though, so he can’t really be sure if this calm atmosphere is due to Touya’s alcohol levels or his own.

“I thought, ‘Sai is probably from the moon. That’s why nobody’s ever been able to find him’. It makes sense, doesn’t it?” There’s a dreamy aura about Touya as he speaks; his eyes look almost glassy, reflecting perfectly the great white orb. Illuminated by the dim light from outside, his features seem veiled, mysterious. Waya doesn’t think he’s ever seen Touya look like this; doesn’t think even Shindou has. Waya didn’t think he’d ever say this, but he’s actually glad he got up to talk to Touya.

“Why the moon?” he asks quietly, not wanting to break the mood.

“Because it’s high up in the sky. Just like the God of Go,” Touya breathes reverently. “That is why Sai is closest to the Hand of God.”

Waya chuckles lightly, and looks at the full moon. “It must be lonely up there,” he replies. “Is that why Sai came down three years ago?”

Touya shrugs. “Who knows,” he replies thoughtfully. “Maybe he came down because he wanted to test humans. To see how far we have come, and how long we have to go until we can join him up there.”

Waya mulls this over. He’s about to open his mouth to answer when Shindou pops up, seemingly out of nowhere, and looks at Waya guiltily. Touya turns to look at them and, just like that, the mood is broken and Touya is back to his old self.

“Uh, Waya,” Shindou begins, fidgeting slightly. “I’m your friend, right?”

Waya raises one eyebrow at him. “Depends on what you’ve done.”

Shindou scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I, uh, kinda broke your vase.”

Touya rolls his eyes at that, and Shindou glares at him, as if daring him to say anything. If he didn’t have to pretend to be mad at Shindou, Waya would be laughing at them. “ _What?!_ ”

“It was an accident!” Shindou says defensively. “I swear! Saeki-san pushed me and –”

“Liar!” Saeki-san’s voice comes from the couch. “You tripped and fell!”

“It’s all your fault for tickling me!”

Waya puts up his hands to stop the argument. “I don’t care whose fault it was. You two created the mess, you two clean it up. Sorry, Shindou.”

“Honestly,” Touya sighs with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else; the silence after his word describes perfectly what he’s thinking.

“What?” Shindou exclaims defensively and, just like that, they are off.

“You’re like a three-year-old kid! Can’t you behave yourself for a whole evening?”

“Well, you act like a forty-year-old geezer most of the time, so I don’t think you’ve got any right to talk here!”

Waya ignores their bickering and turns to look out of the window again. Raindrops are still trickling down the panel, and the moonlight casts weird shadows as it slithers through the leaves of a nearby tree. If Waya had a telescope right now, maybe he could see Sai on the white surface, sitting in front of a goban while he waits for an opponent.

“Sorry,” Waya would like to tell him. “In the end, humans are still encased in this atmosphere.”

The wind blows some leaves away and, when Waya closes his eyes, it’s almost as if he has been heard.

 

 

**[3]**

 

 

Yang Hai’s eyes examine the board. Irufhan’s move is an all-or-nothing kind of hand, closer to ‘nothing’ than ‘all’, and Irufhan himself must be aware of the fact.

“Did you just see that?! Irufhan must be close to resigning!”

Another win for the Touya brat, then, for a change. That child is kind only off the board; since he became a pro, he’s been massacring his opponents one after the other, and the Hokuto Cup is no exception. His father must be proud.

“Yashiro’s game is close to the end too… It’s a shame but it looks like he lost by 3.5 moku…” Next to Yang Hai, Kurata-san stands up brusquely and runs towards the door, ever the impulsive kid. “So then last is Shindou!”

“Kurata-san!”

“He’s going into the game room!”

Yang Hai ignores the ensuing rush of people getting up and grabbing their jackets in favour of watching Touya-sensei. Just like him, the retired pro doesn’t seem like he’s paying any mind to his surroundings; his gaze is focused on the screen that displays Shindou’s game and he doesn’t even blink when Teson almost knocks his chair over in his haste.

Yang Hai is curious. As a father, shouldn’t Sensei be watching Touya Akira’s match instead, decided as it is?

“Yang Hai-san!”

Yang Hai waves Chao Shii off with a lazy hand. “You go on, I’ll watch from here.” He has a feeling that, if he stays, it might turn out to be interesting. There’s still something he wants to ask Touya Kouyo, in any case.

It’s only the two of them in the team discussion room now. Ko Yongha’s put Shindou in a bit of a tight spot, but Shindou’s not doing at all bad, all things considered. “So who’ll win this little quarrel, I wonder…”

No reply comes. Touya-sensei’s eyes are still glued to the screen when Yang Hai slants a look; this could _definitely_ be interesting.

“By the way, Sensei… before, when speaking of Shuusaku, you said ‘someone like that exists’. By that, did you mean…” Yang Hai smirks slightly, looking at the match but watching Touya Kouyo out of the corner of his eye, “…the Internet player called Sai?”

_Ah. Bingo._ “You know Sai? Yang Hai-kun?”

Yang Hai smiles to himself. “Well, no… of course I don’t know who he is, but I’ve seen several of his games on the Net.” He leans forward in his seat; he has Touya Kouyo’s full attention right now, and he wants to make the most of that. “Since Sensei is asking, you must really follow the Sai business.

“He appeared on the Net about three years ago, only for a brief while, and has never appeared again since then…” Yang Hai remembers being intrigued by the whole thing; he still is, otherwise he wouldn’t be fishing for information like he is now. “When I saw him battle Touya Kouyo at this time last year, I was really surprised!”

“You saw that game too?” Touya Kouyo has turned back to watching the monitor, but Yang Hai knows better than to think he’s lost interest in the conversation. “Korea’s So Chin Yon-san saw that game as well.”

Yang Hai nods. “That battle has already become something like a legend. Very few people have seen the kifu of that game.” He doesn’t think there’s even a record on paper of that game. There is no need for one; it’s engraved in the minds of those who saw it. It’s the kind of thing that’s impossible to forget. “Since that game, he’s never appeared again.”

“Sai.” Yang Hai scratches his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve all witnessed his strength, yet we have no idea who he is. There are many versions, but…” he sighs. “Three years ago, when the whole thing started, there was a rumour that he may be a computer program.”

Touya-sensei’s reaction to that is unexpected. “A computer program?” He turns towards Yang Hai almost completely, urging him to elaborate with his body language as well as with his words.

Yang Hai clears his throat and sits up straighter, encouraged by Touya’s interest. “A rumour spread on the Net after that summer. In Go-related online forums, everyone was talking about a huge advance in AI technology. It was said that someone had found a new algorithm that enabled the program to play Go at pro level, generating the correct response in almost every situation imaginable.” Seeing Touya’s slightly blank look, Yang Hai leans forward excitedly and explains, “Go programs work like chess programs, with statistics and probability, but the great problem is that there are endless possibilities on a Go board. We’ve never been able to surpass the 5 kyu barrier.

“There were thousands of threads about it. ‘It’s Sai,’ people said, ‘Superior Artificial Intelligence. The wall has fallen. Anything is possible.’ But, if that were true, why didn’t Sai’s creator tell the world about his discovery?

“And I thought, maybe it’s not yet complete. Maybe he needed to be sure his creation would work against a real person, in a real match.” Yang Hai pauses for effect, for Touya-sensei’s benefit as well as his own. “So he tested it. On the Net.”

Shindou’s game has gone into Yose already. Black and white have started to protect the weak points in their structures, but neither Yang Hai nor Touya-sensei are paying them attention anymore. “Sai evolved after every match… it’s as if his creator was re-adjusting the details, fixing even the smallest glitch. And then Sai was perfect, and only Sensei could play evenly against him,” Yang Hai breathes reverently.

Touya Kouyo frowns and his eyes dart to the side, as if recalling something. Yang Hai thinks he hears a whisper, something that sounds like _my friend can only play online_ , but before he can ask, Touya-sensei stares him in the eye and the angry fire behind his gaze shocks Yang Hai. “You’re wrong, Yang Hai-kun. Sai is not a program.” His eyes dart toward the monitor. “He really exists. If it were like you say, his creator would have spoken up after Sai’s match with me.”

Yang Hai grins wickedly – he was right about staying in the discussion room. “Maybe he created it for himself. To be the first one to achieve the Hand of God. With Sai.” His eyes light up; it’s almost like a mystery, and he loves it.

“That’s impossible,” Touya-sensei cuts him decisively, almost rudely, but Yang Hai is enjoying the conversation too much to be offended. “The God of Go taught Go only to humans, and only humans can play the Hand. Sai is no machine.”

Yang Hai chuckles and glances at Touya-sensei. “Shuusaku’s wandering spirit, then?”

“That might well be the case,” Touya replies, turning back to the monitor. Shindou and Ko Yongha are playing the neutral points; the game is about to end. “Don’t you think so, Yang Hai-kun?”

Yang Hai laughs delightedly. “So Sensei believes in ghosts? Nice.”

“Excuse me, but you believe in superhuman machines,” Touya Kouyo retorts with a slight smile.

“Caught me,” Yang Hai grins. “But Shuusaku died over 100 years ago… why come back now? Is he trying to send some sort of message?”

“Why did he appear in this world?” Touya’s expression becomes serious and intense, like it did whenever he was in front of the board. The powerful aura about him was overwhelming. “To battle with me.”

Shindou places the last stone. The game has been decided.

“Very cool answer,” Yang Hai replies with a grin.

 

 

**[4]**

 

 

“Grampa,” the young boy whines, looking up at his grandfather accusingly. “You told me we were going to the park.”

Shindou Heihachi looks at Sai and both sigh in unison. “We’ll go there later, Hikaru,” Heihachi quells the child, reaching out to slide open the door to Touya Kouyo’s Go salon. “Just be a good boy for a while and play some Go. You’re going to forget everything I taught you because you never play.”

Hikaru pouts. “Che,” he grumbles, shooting his grandfather a glare. “I’ll want ice-cream for this.”

The older Shindou rolls his eyes. “Brat,” he mutters sourly under his breath, and leads the way into the salon. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sai muffling his laughter with his sleeve. _‘It’s not that funny, you know,’_ Heihachi adds mentally for Sai’s benefit, but it only serves to amuse the ghost further.

“Good afternoon, Shindou-sensei!” Ichikawa-san greets, shooting them one of her usual sunny smiles. “Oh, and Hikaru-kun as well!” She leans on the counter and hands Hikaru a piece of candy. “Here you go. It’s strawberry-flavoured!”

Hikaru wastes no time in propping it into his mouth. “Thanks, ma’am!” he replies, grinning at her as she ruffles his hair. “Hey, can anyone in here play?”

“ _Hikaru!_ ”

“Ouch!”

A boy in his school uniform walks up to the counter while Hikaru is busy rubbing his head and glaring at his grandfather. “It was just a question,” Hikaru grumbles.

“Good afternoon, Shindou-sensei!” the boy greets with a polite bow.

“Ah, Touya-kun.” Heihachi looks away from his grandson and bows lightly at the boy in return. “How is your father doing?”

“Very well, thank you,” Touya Akira replies. “He sends his greetings and wishes you luck in your defence of the Kisei title next week.” Sai’s excitement at the mention of that match is palpable; Heihachi doesn’t need to turn around to see the serious expression on his face. It’s all because Touya Kouyo is the challenger.

“Please tell your father not to be so greedy,” Heihachi tells Touya with a gruff laugh. “He has three titles already; surely he doesn’t need any more?”

The younger Touya laughs politely. “I’ll tell him that, Sensei.” He seems to spot Hikaru then (which is quite a feat, in Heihachi’s opinion – with his bleached bangs and hideously colourful shirts, Hikaru could be spotted from a mile away. He’s told his daughter that he doesn’t know why she lets Hikaru out in public looking like that, but she seems to think it’s okay, for some reason). “Are you looking for an opponent?” Touya Akira asks excitedly, and his smile looks genuine this time. “I can play you if you want!”

Hikaru looks at him and grins. “Oh, you’re my age!” he exclaims cheerfully. “I thought there were only old men in here!”

Ichikawa-san giggles and Shindou gives a long-suffering sigh. ‘ _Sai, remind me whose brilliant idea this was?’_ he asks the ghost, even though he knows Sai had nothing to do with this.

_‘Let’s just sit back and watch, Heihachi,’_ Sai replies encouragingly, watching Hikaru with a smile. _‘It’ll be fine.’_

“I’m in the fourth grade too! It has to be an even game!” Heihachi hears Hikaru say loudly as he follows Touya-kun to a table in the back.

“But –” Ichikawa begins, looking at Hikaru’s back worriedly.

“Let them, Ichikawa-san,” Heihachi tells her with a shake of his head. “It’ll be fine.” Sai is right. After all, Touya Akira is the reason he brought Hikaru to the salon.

Heihachi has met the kid a couple of times before today, on the occasions that he’s visited the Touya household for tea or study groups, and played him once. Shindou Heihachi played that match himself, instead of letting Sai play like he does in his pro games, and he remembers being amazed by the boy’s seemingly endless potential. Hikaru is like that, too, but he is different in that he lacks the passion to use that potential. Heihachi has done everything in his hands to push him along the way, but there is a limit to what he can do for Hikaru. Now it’s Touya Akira’s turn, and if he is unable to make Hikaru love Go, nobody can.

_I’m counting on you, kid._ “How much is it for the two of us, Ichikawa-san?” he asks the cashier, taking out his wallet.

“Ah, don’t worry about that, Sensei,” Ichikawa replies with a wink. “I’ll make an exception, since it’s Hikaru-kun’s first time here!”

Heihachi smiles. He seriously loves this woman; she’s nice to talk to _and_ she makes the best green tea in the island. “That’s very kind of you,” he tells her with a small bow. “I’ll go find someone to play, in that case.” He has barely taken three steps when one of the salon regulars rushes to his encounter. “Kitajima-san,” he greets.

“Good afternoon, Sensei! Do you have time?” Kitajima-san asks, bowing briefly. “Last time you beat me completely, but it’ll be different this time! I’ve been training!”

Sai cheers happily. _‘Let’s play, let’s play!’_ he says, trotting after Kitajima-san. _‘Heihachi, please!’_

Heihachi laughs. “Let’s go then, Kitajima-san.”

They sit at a table not too far away from Hikaru’s. Heihachi looks at the opening sequences as he walks by; Hikaru’s doing well, but he has to be careful. If he makes the smallest mistake, the Touya kid will take advantage of it to crush him; it’s written in his eyes.

“I’ll go with six stones this time,” Kitajima-san tells Heihachi confidently. Next to him, Iwamura-san snorts. “What?” Kitajima-san asks, daring him to say any more.

“Honestly, Kitajima-san,” he sighs, not looking away from his own game. “Sometimes I don’t know if you’re really brave or really stupid.”

They start playing after Kitajima and Iwamura are done bickering. Sai never plays to crush when they’re in the salon, and the game progresses more or less evenly. Heihachi glances at Hikaru’s game when Sai takes too long to decide the next move, and every time he looks Hikaru’s condition has worsened. By the looks of it, he tried to invade white’s corner at 3-3 and made some mistake that caused those stones to die. He’s not faring that well in the rest of the board, either. The Touya kid is absolutely merciless; like father, like son.

Heihachi’s match has only just reached middle game when he sees Hikaru bow his head over the board. He can feel Sai watching too, and he knows they are both waiting for Hikaru’s reaction to that loss.

“Ah, it was a massacre! You’re too good, Akira-kun,” Hikaru is saying sheepishly. He rubs the back of his head. “I couldn’t do anything to come back after you killed that group in the lower right.”

Touya-kun is cleaning up, separating the black and white stones and helping Hikaru put them back in their gokes. “It was a great game, Hikaru-kun,” the younger Touya says happily. “You should drop by more often. We could have a rematch!”

Shindou Heihachi realises he’s practically holding his breath, but there’s nothing else he can do. Everything – what happens to Hikaru’s potential, what happens to his future, his blinding future – depends on Hikaru’s answer now. _‘Please say yes,’_ he thinks to himself. _‘You don’t realize it, but you could be so great, Hikaru…’_

“Ah, I don’t know,” Hikaru says ambiguously, but it sounds so much like a no that Heihachi’s heart sinks. “I think Go is too difficult for me, after all…”

Touya-kun looks completely disheartened as well; from the hurt look in his eyes, Heihachi can see his thrashed hopes of having a rival his age. He can tell that Akira-kun has seen Hikaru’s endless potential, just like Sai and Heihachi himself have. Hikaru himself is the only one that hasn’t realised it yet.

Heihachi can’t see Sai, but he thinks he might be crying. Heihachi envies him, because nobody can see him.

“Let’s go, Gramps,” Hikaru tells Heihachi. “You promised me ice cream, remember?”

_‘Idiot,’_ Heihachi wants to shout at Hikaru. _‘You’re an idiot, Hikaru. You have more talent than I do, more than any of us here, but you’re an idiot because you don’t use it.’_

Instead of that he says, “Yes, Hikaru. Of course I remember.”

 

 

 

**[5]**

 

 

“I resign,” Yamashita Kentaro 5-dan mutters, bending his head over the board. A wave of excited chatter spreads through the crowd gathered around the two players.

“Thank you for the game,” Touya Akira replies, bowing slightly in return. Behind him, Sai smiles and closes his fan.

“You should be proud of your son, Touya-sensei,” Yamashita 5-dan tells the man in the green hakama. “He’s completely unbeatable. No matter what I tried, he wouldn’t relent.”

Some people chuckle at that, the Meijin included. “Akira plays very aggressively,” he replies, smiling slightly. “He’s thinking of taking the pro exam this year.”

If the crowd was chattering before, it was nothing compared to this. “But he’s only ten!” a woman exclaims. Akira wishes they would go away and stop talking about him like he’s not there, even though, technically, it’s not _him_ they’re talking about.

“There are no opponents that can face him in an even match outside the world of the pros,” Akira’s father explains proudly. “It would be stupid to wait any longer than he already has.”

“Let’s go home, Father,” Akira says, putting the lid on his goke. He’s tired, and not in the mood to care about manners this time. “I have school tomorrow.”

“You should leave school, Akira-sensei,” Kitajima-san tells him with a wink. “You don’t need it any more.”

Akira wants to reply that he doesn’t want to be ignorant, but his father speaks before him. “Well then, we will excuse ourselves for today,” he announces, placing a hand on Akira’s shoulder. “Good evening, and thanks for playing Akira, Yamashita-san.”

“My pleasure,” the other pro replies, bowing to them in farewell.

Sai sighs. _‘It’s still raining,’_ he says, looking out of the window of the salon. _‘We should have brought an umbrella.’_ He’s right, Akira realizes with a sinking heart. It’s coming down so hard they’ll get carried away by the streams forming on the sides of the road if they’re not careful.

He’s worrying needlessly, though. “I’ll lend you an umbrella, Akira-kun, and another for you, Sensei,” Ichikawa-san says, hurrying to retrieve two from behind the counter. “You can keep it as long as you want,” she whispers to Akira with a mischievous wink.

Akira smiles. “Thank you, Ichikawa-san.”

“It’s okay because it’s you, Akira-kun,” she tells him with a giggle, cradling her face in her hands. “Sleep well!”

“See you tomorrow, Ichikawa-san,” Touya Kouyo says, and leads Akira out of the salon.

The rain hits Akira’s umbrella relentlessly as he walks, and more than once it feels like the drops are going to make a hole in the fabric. Sai is probably thinking along the same lines, because he too keeps looking at the umbrella worriedly every few minutes.

“You played wonderfully today, Akira,” his father says as their house comes into sight.

_‘I didn’t play, though,’_ Akira thinks. “Thank you, Father,” he says.

“Your Go has grown greatly in the last three months,” Touya Kouyo continues. Akira looks at his feet and says nothing. “I was shocked at first because you improved drastically in a short period of time, but I am glad to see that it’s not a fluke but your natural progress. I am very proud of you, Akira.”

“Thank you.”

Akira walks in when his father opens the door to their house and, after taking off his shoes and eating the dinner his mother prepares (miso soup and curry), goes up to his room without further delay. He can feel Sai’s worried gaze on the back of his head as he climbs the steps, but he ignores it and doesn’t say anything.

The ceiling of his room is lavender. It’s completely free of posters or the shine-in-the-dark stars that he’s seen in other kids’ rooms; he’s never been particularly attracted to that kind of thing.

“Ne, Akira,” Sai speaks up timidly, poking his side lightly. “Let’s play, please.”

Akira gets up from the bed, picks up the heavy goban and places it in the middle of the room with a small grunt of effort. “Come here, then,” he tells Sai, placing each agehama next to its goke.

“Okay,” Sai replies docilely, sitting on the other side of the board. “Good luck.”

“Good luck,” Akira returns and plays a black stone in the upper right star-point.

“4-4. Hoshi,” Sai answers, looking at Akira carefully. He’s been acting this way for almost a month now, walking on eggshells around Akira, and tonight it’s particularly prominent. Akira knows why.

_‘I’m very proud of you, Akira,’_ his father’s voice echoes in his mind, and there’s a heavy feeling in Akira’s stomach at the memory of his father’s smile. It feels a lot like guilt.

Akira’s father always looks happy when he talks about Akira’s Go – or what he thinks is Akira’s Go – and happier still when they play in the morning before Akira goes to school. They play without any handicap, and his father always praises him after each game. Akira always smiles and thanks him, but he becomes sadder every day and he doesn’t know why.

“16-4,” Sai says, pointing with his fan.

Akira picks up another stone, revelling in the solid feel of it, and does a keima on Sai’s 4-4 stone. He plays the following joseki absent-mindedly. Black and white get equal benefits from the sequence; Sai gets to play more Go, Akira gets to learn from him every day and Touya Kouyo gets the rival he’s always wanted.

Yet, in the morning when they play, he wants to talk before his father can start praising him, so he can tell him that he’s wrong, that it’s not Akira’s Go in front of him. But every time he opens his mouth to speak, he sees that look on his father’s face, and there it is again, the guilt and the shame.

So he follows the direction of Sai’s fan, because he’s ashamed of his selfishness. He’s ashamed of himself for putting his childish wishes before his father and Sai’s happiness, for acting like this gift he has received is a burden. _‘That is nothing to be proud of, Father,’_ he thinks, feeling the tears start to form in his eyes.

“Akira,” Touya Kouyo says, looking up from the board. “It’s your turn.”

“Akira?” Sai asks concernedly, looking at him. “Are you okay? I can try to finish faster if you’re not feeling well –”

Akira picks up a stone and wipes his face with his sleeve quickly. _‘The next move, Sai.’_

Sai still seems worried. “Um, 15-6…”

The Hand of God; it’s what all Go players live for. It’s the reason they play; the reason they exist, even. It’s the thing at the end of that path that they all share in common, and they have to help each other while competing in order to someday reach it. Akira will not be the one to stop his own father from attaining it.

And yet, as his father answers Sai’s attack with one of his own, Akira can’t help but be selfish and want the Hand of God for himself, as a player, as a person. He wants to be the one to play the ultimate move, not the one to watch it being played.

“14-7,” Sai says, and looks at Akira when he doesn’t move his hand. “Akira? Did you hear me? 14-7…”

“Sorry, Sai, Dad,” Akira whispers, slamming a black stone on 11-8. “I’m playing.”

 

 

 

**[6]**

 

 

“Shindou!” Touya shouted, breathing heavily. “What did you drag me here for all of a sudden? I saw you just an hour ago at the Institute!”

“Hikaru!” Shindou-san shouted from the hall. “Don’t run up the stairs, it’s dangerous!”

Hikaru ignored her and ushered Touya into his room, resting his weight on the door to shut it.

“Shindou –”

“You’d better sit down, Touya,” Hikaru said, taking a deep, wavering breath. “I have something to tell you.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Five Ways Fujiwara no Sai Might Have Existed (And One He Did)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855404) by [jedusaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedusaur/pseuds/jedusaur)




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